Oxygen
by Viida
Summary: The girl you love more than anything loves nothing at all.


**Chapter One**

** Rule Number One**

* * *

John's presence is light by her side like a thin sheet draped around the shoulders of a young child as an improvised cape; existing, but barely there(only enough that it is tangible). She stands baking in the hot summer sun, all tanned arms and toned legs peaking out from black shorts that cut off at the knee, pulling the bitter cigarette from her lips she blows a soft curl of dark grey smoke into the air. Meenah watches it with a sense of detachment-knows he's watching too as it curls in on itself like cowering roly-poly and drifts away into the air that doesn't move.

He hides under the cool shade of the bleachers, watching watery grey melt into the vivid colors of dark greens, and bright blues. Sweat gathers on the collar of his light blue t-shirt, face already flushed pink from the humid air. There's sunscreen in his backpack he isn't willing to get out, ignoring the itch at the junction of his shoulder(he always burned so easily). He wipes the sweat off the back of his neck with a grimace, glancing at his companion that is blowing lazy smoke rings into the air.

Meenah sucks in another drag, and John sighs. He pulls the collar away from his sweaty neck, fidgets for the hundredth time, and fans himself half-heartedly, "It's really hot out here," he complains at the stale air that presses against his face like a suffocating blanket. He drops his hand, resigning with a sigh.

"Thank you, captain obvious. Thought it was a chilly day today, you have really opened my eyes."

He shoots her a dirty look she doesn't pay attention to, annoyed she's taken so well to the heat(he's lived here longer and the heat still makes him heavy, groggy, and grouchy). If anything she looks like she's enjoying it. He frowns, sliding his iPhone out of his pocket. With a swift flick of his thumb the phone clicks, opening up to the background Dave wordlessly changed one day. John clicks over to his new messages, replying with two thumbs. "You know you'll get expelled if they catch you, right?"

"…" She pauses, glancing over at him looking intently at the screen. He doesn't look up, and she taps ashes onto the ground, rolling her eyes, "Yeah… And?"

John locks his phone, leans back until his head rests against heated metal, "And you're in detention a lot, Meenah, I'm pretty sure at this point they know your entire family history, and then some." He turns his head, studying her profile. The way she holds the cigarette between two fingers, and brings it to her bright, pink lipstick-clad lips its like it belongs there. It feels wrong to imagine her without it pinched there, end burning red hot with new embers as her lipstick rubs off on the other side.

She snorts, shrugging broad shoulders nonchalantly, and John furrows his eyebrows. She looks at him over her shoulder, and there are the beginnings of freckles just over her nose, trailing down the side to her nostril, he notices. ""An' what's wrong with that? They should be considerin' themselves lucky they know such interesting information. Betta than the other broads that go to this school," Meenah says with a slight wrinkle to her nose, "It ain't like they give a shit as long as they don't see it." Her voice is smooth, and far too calm for John's liking. It would've been soothing if the idea of her possible expulsion hadn't taken root in his gut like a like a tapeworm. She takes another drag with her eyes locked with bright baby blue.

John feels apprehensive staring back into reserved fuchsia eyes. His breath catches uncomfortably in his throat, adams apple bobbing uselessly against the sudden, heavy dryness. "…" He hates how calm she is, flicking off dying ashes with a simple tap of her index finger without so much as a twitch of a facial muscle.

_Its takes more muscles to frown than smile._

"You should be worried," he tries to stress, but it just sounds flat and whiny. She gives him a lopsided smile(John hates this smile that shows half of her teeth, like a lopsided grin to a joke that he doesn't know about and, like a petulant child, wants to). Except he never does. She's good at keeping secrets, and the things that don't concern him are left so far in the dark he's never really sure he wants to retrieve them, but their lack of presence is frustrating. Even when they are never present in the conversation they always play at the forefront of his mind; nagging and deluding him to thinking she'll share them one day.

"John," she says-his heart seizes and it's hard to breathe- with such faux sweetness he's afraid if she asked him to do something he would do it in a heartbeat. She pulls herself away from the pole to crouch beside him, half hidden by shadows that cover tan skin and make bright eyes stand out(she's beautiful in the most exotic of ways, and his heart needs to seriously calm down). "Do you really think they give a damn about what I do on my spare time?" For emphasis she sucks in another drag, blowing the smoke to the side without breaking eye contact-he is _fascinated_.

"Well-"

"No. The answer is no. Can't raise a fuss if it ain't even on their conscience. 'Sides it ain't like I'm settin' the school on fire. Stop gettin' your briefs all twisted for nothin'."

"…"

She sighs heavily, and is at his side in a blink. She leans forward, close enough that he can feel her breath ghosting warm and wet across his lips. She tips her head down, looking over the top of ridiculous pink frames. Sunglasses, he had learned early on, she has perfect 20/20 vision, "Do I look worried to you?"

"No," he says without thinking.

Meenah's lips twist into a frown. "Then listen up, Egbert. I'm telling' ya right now quit worryin' about it, that ain't your job," she snaps, surprisingly aggressive, "I'll get my shit together when I think I need to get my shit together, you're not here to babysit me. You're here 'cause I don't mind you hangin' around me. So don't go blowin' it by being all up and obsessive on my case. That's what I got a fuckin' sister for."

She leans away abruptly(John mourns the loss of the warmth that always leaves a bittersweet ache in his chest), sitting back on her butt to finish the last of the cigarette with aggressive sucks that give away her irritation. He scoffs, unperturbed, "Wow, thanks, I can totally tell you value our friendship, Meenah. I wasn't being _obsessive_ its a rightful worry, okay? This is, like, the second time I've asked." She looks at him with narrowed eyes, and he swallows, "But, yeah, I won't bring it up again."

"Good."

He ignores the buzzing against his hip, stretching his legs out wordlessly. He inhales the musky heat that mingles with the smell of sweat, smoke, and cheap perfume and thinks he's never had the reason to call a scent a attractive as he did in that moment sitting next to Meenah Peixes on the ground behind the school bleachers. So close he feels the coarse cotton of her shorts brush against his wrist when she moves that leaves his skin tingling.

"Hey. Time to go."

John jumps, drawing long legs underneath his thighs. "The bell hasn't-" It rings, shrill and warning to those who are loitering outside, and she's already smashing the butt underneath the heel of her shoe, dismissively reaching for her messenger bag.

"Wow you're like psychic or something."

She scoffs, and John watches her bend down to pick up the wilted butt, turning it between two calloused fingers with a look of distaste. Her eyes flit to his, and he quickly looks away, the tips of his ears turning a shade redder. "You're a dork, Egbert." The paper is flipped expertly, burnt end towards the ground, and with a quick glance back he sees the good end that is smeared with her bright pink lipstick, little ridges that outline perfect pouty lips.

John has never been more envious of the paper pinched between calloused fingers.

He stands with a heavy sigh, snagging the strap of his backpack(the one that Dave gave him for his birthday a year ago, with the symbol he recognizes from his nightmares on the front of it). He tilts his shaggy head, watches her catch the inside of her lip between her teeth. He's seen this expression before, a year ago, the moment right before she hauled his ass halfway across town without an explanation and pressed his first spray can into his palm.

He smiles, and is no longer tentative when he asks, "Wanna skip class?"

She looks at him for an agonizing minute behind the glare of her shades, pursed lips finally quirking up at the edges, "You're catchin' on, blue boy." The tension melts too quickly from his face, and he smiles with all of his front teeth. Five words shouldn't make him so happy, but they do. She turns, "C'mon, nerd, I'm cravin' ice-cream." John follows so close behind he nearly smashes his nose into her shoulder. "One of those huge sundaes," she says after some thought, walking into the sun.

He is relieved, slinging the backpack strap over his shoulder, "You never finish those."

"Never stopped me before."

She's halfway past the bleachers and he half runs to catch up, leaving the dying warning bell behind. The sun burns into his back like a hot iron, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle with sweat, but he's still light as a feather, watching her braids swing behind her with every confident step. Light, even though he knows his father will be sitting in the kitchen, a disapproving frown on his face with the long dead phone sitting next to him when he comes home. The house will not smell like the deplorable baked goods his father insists on making(though it makes the house smell nice), and dinner will feel thick in John's throat when the guilt finally hits him.

How that very same evening he'll tell himself, while pouring over homework he hasn't done(words he can't even begin to focus on or understand because its simply not _her)_, that _this has to stop_ like he has so many times before.

So many times that it never happens.

* * *

**A/N: Oh shit I actually wrote a fanfiction, and its for one of my favorite Homestuck rarepairs. Oh man this is hilariously exciting. **


End file.
